Watson & the Countess 01 The Baskerville Curse by Anna Lord

Author:Anna Lord
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

Dr Watson was greatly relieved to see the footman still posted outside Lady Baskerville’s bedroom door. Fedir had been diligent in his duties. If anything happened to Lady Baskerville he would never forgive himself. It was one thing to be a fool and a bumbler in his own eyes, but to fail in his duty of care would be unforgivable.

The Countess saw the light still on in Lady Baskerville’s room and though she had made that sardonic remark about Lady Baskerville and Roderick Lysterfield being lovers in jest as soon as she said it she wondered if there could be any truth to it.

Lady Baskerville did not mind being disturbed though the hour was late. Day and night had no meaning to someone confined to their bed.

Dr Watson joined the countess and together they recounted pleasantries about the evening spent at Merripit House. It was the lady herself who informed them of Jack Stapleton’s final resting place and settled the mystery of the second grave. She had made the decision to inter his remains as swiftly as possible and had chosen the same spot as for his gigantic hound in Wizend Wood. The master mason would carve an epitaph on a small headstone as soon as he finished the effigy of Sir Henry for the family tomb. The funeral for Sir Henry was to take place tomorrow. It would be a private service held in the new chapel with the vicar from Saint Swithin’s presiding.

Since they had just spent the evening with the American engineer the Countess did not think her question would appear impertinent. “Will Roderick Lysterfield be attending?”

“Oh, no,” said Lady Laura, sounding surprised. “I have never met the man. I understand he is industrious, intelligent and charming, but he is not family.”

“You have never met him?” The Countess sounded equally surprised.

“I know that sounds very ungracious of me, but the last few years have been particularly difficult health-wise. I miscarried twice and was encouraged by my husband and Dr Mortimer to lead a quiet life. I therefore did not concern myself with the transformation of the gardens beyond the castle walls. I left the details to my husband. He met many times with Mr Lysterfield and praised his skill and ingenuity, but I had usually taken myself off to bed by the time they met to discuss progress. It did not matter to me if Holywell Pool was ten acres or twenty. It did not matter if Stickle Brook was dammed or not dammed. It did not matter if the lake had one bridge or two. I mean no disrespect but if the American engineer is invited to the funeral half the workforce will expect to be invited too. There will be just family, meaning myself and my father, the Mortimers, who are like family, Mr Barrymore, who is facing a difficult time and may welcome the support of his neighbours, plus Sir Olwen from Drogo, oh, and my two dear friends from London,” she added almost as an afterthought, rallying a smile.

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